Sweet Obsession
by Whispering Muse
Summary: A little peek into Harry's secret thoughts on our favorite Potions Master. They're not what everyone thinks!


Rating: Uhm...G? PG maybe? Pairing: HP/SS Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not a bloody thing. Suing me will result in the waste of your money. I own only my own words and twisted plot bunnies. There goes one now... Warning: Slash, meaning Male/Male content. Done in Harry's point of view. Don't like it, please hit the back button and find something else you'd enjoy reading. Please don't bitch to me about how you weren't warned. All flamers will be promptly deleted. Your opinions matter to me not at all. I'm only having fun here, and if you've a problem with it, bugger off. Reviews are much wanted!!! I'd luv to hear what you other people have to say! ^_^ It's an ego boost for my Plot Bunnies. Also, constructive criticism is very much appreciated, as I sincerely suck at editing my own work. Now, onto my ficlet.  
  
***ITALICS = HARRY'S PERSONAL THOUGHTS  
  
****************************Sweet Obsession****************************  
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~*~*~*~*By  
  
I watch him sit at his desk grading essays from the first and second years. The room is silent, each person's head bowed over the test that I'm supposed to be working on, but I can't concentrate. My mind refuses to stay focused on the paper in front of me, and truth be told, I'm not trying very hard to force it. He sits straight in his chair, not bothering to glance up at the students, as we know better than to incur his famous wrath. Supposedly. His hair is falling into his face as he reads and he absently tucks it back now and then with his left hand; but it doesn't do any good. It's too short to stay behind his ear for long; and is just long enough to be an annoyance when trying to do his work. The black strands shine faintly with the light in the room, and I wonder if its really as greasy as people say it is, or if its just very fine and silky, like I personally believe it could be. He hasn't noticed me watching him yet. He holds the black feather quill gracefully in his pale slender fingered hand, gliding it smoothly over some unfortunate person's paper, staining it with his biting sarcastic remarks in scarlet red.  
  
Does he know he brushes the feathered end of it over his lower lip each time he stops to read the typically sloppy work? Is it an unconscious gesture, or he does know, and just not care?  
  
I like to believe he doesn't know about it. It gives him a secretly human and vulnerable appearance, if only while grading. He looks up to scan the class over, usual annoyed scowl on his lips. The scowl deepens when his eyes lock with mine, staring passively back. His mouth moves and he speaks, but my gaze it caught by those lips and I miss most of what is said.  
  
" ... Detention! 8:00! "  
  
I just nod much to the surprise of my classmates. I don't want to argue, have no desire to at all in fact. It means I can be close to him longer; can continue my observations of him, but much more discreetly, of course. He looks at me strangely, but I say nothing, returning to the test on the desk before me, pretending to work. I feel his eyes on me a minute longer, and I secretly glance in his direction, his face is unreadable, and I don't think he sees me looking. He goes back to his grading without a word. Time passes and the class is dismissed, I'm startled by how quickly it goes by. I've scribbled something across my test. I hand it in without looking him in the eye. I don't know what I've written, and I don't care. I leave. The rest of the day drags by in a haze and I'm barely aware of the people and classes around me. I hardly remember the lessons and little of it makes sense to me. People have noticed I'm not home upstairs, and ask if I'm all right. I brush them off; and skip dinner to work on my potions essay, and to think about him. I return to the dungeons at 8:00 as ordered. Knocking on the door tentatively my mind wanders again. I'm nervous, my heart beats a little too fast, my breath silently with it, my stomach tangles and clenches in a tight knot. I don't know why. The door flies open, breaking my thoughts and he is standing there, glaring down at me as though I'd just melted one of his precious cauldrons.  
  
What have I done now?  
  
" Are you hard of hearing boy or just stupid?! Enter means enter!"  
  
Oh. So that's what it was. " Another detention for wasting my time! "  
  
okay. If it means I can see you again.  
  
"Yes sir. "  
  
Does he know his black eyes draw me in each time I see them and drown me in their depths? Probably not. Does he believe I turn my eyes away in fear of him, rather than in want of him? Most likely.  
  
I don't speak as he turns away from the door and assigns me to clean up the cauldrons and potion ingredients from his last class. Hufflepuffs are notoriously messy. I don't argue with the work, simply begin to clean up as he returns to his desk. For a while I don't dare to risk a glance in his direction, I can feel his eyes resting on me now and again as I pick up various ingredients, discarding ruined ones and putting away what can be used at a later date. There isn't much that can be saved. Finally I look over at him from the corner of my eye, he's concentrating on the tests we did today.  
  
Damn.  
  
More than likely he'll start in on me about my shoddy work. And he'd be right, not for the first time, as much as I hate to admit it.  
  
I watch his expressions as he marks the work. For a long time nothing but annoyance crosses it. Then suddenly startled surprise. I wonder darkly if perhaps someone had finally gotten an A in his course and whose paper it as. Surely it shouldn't be such a shock if it was Hermione Granger. Everyone knows that she's brilliant, if a bit stuck up and know it all-ish. Everyone has his or her flaws. He's looking at me.  
  
Why?  
  
There's something in his expression I've never seen before. I can't tell what it is. He sees me looking, he's standing. He looks furious.  
  
What now?  
  
" What is this trash? "He asks, quietly instead of shouting, and I know that I'm on very hazardous ground with him, he's in too tight control of himself. I scramble to my feet as he stalks towards me. Merlin but I love that walk. It sends chills through me. So predatory. So aggressive. So damned dangerous.  
  
Am I suicidal? I'm not sure I care if I am.  
  
"Well? " He's barely a foot from me now, and I can't help but back up until the small of my back bumps into the desk behind me. He paces me, and I've nowhere else to go. I'll admit he frightens me. He excites me. But I've no idea what he's talking about, I don't know what I've written on the test. "What sir..?" I whisper, not sure what else to say. Apparently it's the wrong thing, as his temper explodes, he turns the paper and shoves it into my face. "What?! This!!! You imbecile, your failing test! Which I was expecting, but this trash! Is this your idea of a joke boy?! "Faced with the paper, and for the first time reading it as he rants and insults me, my eyes widen in horror. Across the paper, showing no regard for a proper straight line is my handwriting. My questions. My personal thoughts. My random fantasies, on Snape. There, in plain sight, and he'd read it.  
  
I want to die.  
  
I can feel the heat rushing to my face, and I know I'm blushing some terrible shade of red. My heart is racing, and I seem to have forgotten how to breathe, my ears ring. I hadn't noticed he'd stopped yelling until I feel a hand on my face, firm, but surprisingly gentle. It tilts my face up and I hear my name, softly, until I open the eyes I don't remember closing. He's looking at me again with that strange expression, that weird uncertain searching look that I don't like on his face. It doesn't seem to fit right. It doesn't belong there. He asks me a question, in that soft voice and I tense. It doesn't sound nearly as hostile but I know better. This is Snape, and I've crossed a big invisible line that not even his precious Slytherins dare to put a toe over. He says it again but it slips by me a second time, I just stare at him, mind franticly searching for an explanation, an excuse, anything to cover myself so he won't know the truth. Won't discover my obsession.  
  
He's kissing me.  
  
BLOODY HELL!  
  
His lips are on mine, his pale hand slipping from my face to tangle in my hair, holding me there firmly. He's staring me straight in the eyes as he does this.  
  
Creepy.  
  
It takes a moment for it to register that this is Snape kissing me, the snarky potions bastard that terrorizes every student in this school. I can't control a gasp of shock, my lips parting to draw in the sharp breath. Only to have it cut off, as my mouth is invaded by his tongue; probing gently, but aggressively. My eyes have slipped closed again. I don't know if this is right, and if I'm honest with myself, I want this, and so, rules and regulations be damned. I'm not sure if this is a dream, another sweet fantasy brought on by my falling asleep somewhere before going down to detention. If so, then I'm seriously going to be in trouble later, as I can't seem to find the will to pull away from this. If it wasn't a dream...I don't think any moment could be more perfect in my mind. The kiss lasted too short a time before he pulled away from me, leaving behind only a lingering taste and sensation of him. Purely him. Neither of us spoke for a few comfortable moments before his voice coaxed me to open my eyes. I did, with only a little hesitation. I worried about what I would see on his face, in his dark eyes. Contrary to what I was expecting, there was no anger, no disgust or regret, only sincere curiosity and unasked questions. His hand returns to my chin, thumb lightly stroking my cheek as he and i just looked at one another. I realize suddenly that he is fighting something within himself, and as I realize this, his hand drops away. Taking with it its warmth and my confidence. My mouth opens to say something, a protest perhaps, I don't know, he cuts me off before a word is uttered. "Your detention is over. You are dismissed." He turns away before the words completely sunk in. Taking a seat at his desk, fully Snape, the snarky potions bastard once more, and fully ignoring me.  
  
He's turning me away.  
  
I know better than to approach him now, my reception would be bone chilling at best. So I leave. Returning to my dorms and classmates for the remainder of the night. As I walk through the dark quiet halls my mind wanders back to what has happened. Trying to sort it all out in a way that makes any sort of sense to me at all. I know and understand the physical aspects of what had gone on. I had been snogged by a professor, a man twice my age who could have been my father. No, it was the silent interactions I was desperately trying to comprehend; the unsaid words and unspoken messages. Snape was a complicated man at best, and unfathomable on a normal day. That ultimately is the attraction I think. Tall, dark, chilling, untouchable, forbidden, and that's just the beginning. He was aggressive, intelligent, graceful, and precise. I could go on, but I've reached my room and turn my attention to getting ready for sleep. My dorm mates are in slumber already, so I don't have to worry about well meant, but intrusive questions about my detention. It only takes me a couple minutes to get my pajamas on and crawl into the bed. Burrowing under the covers and shutting my eyes I blank my mind as best I can to let sleep come sooner, and it does come eventually. Bringing him, and his marvelous hands with it.  
Its two days before I see him again, two long days that seemed to drag on forever, but that torture has passed.  
  
Thank Merlin.  
  
I slip into the potions room barely able to hide a little smile and take my usual seat where I can best watch him at his desk. He's not here yet, but that isn't really odd, considering it's just after lunch. Arranging my things on my desk my classmates file in, I ignore them as best I can, even as one stops to speak with me. I don't want to be bothered by anyone at all. From the corner of my eye a girl runs into the room. Hastily tossing her books down and taking her seat, the room goes silent a few seconds before Snape walks in. Typically, he stalks to his desk rather than walks, scowling at anyone who happened to catch his eye. I duck my head a little to hide my amusement. It wouldn't be proper for me to be openly amused by him. When he speaks a mild shiver runs down my spine and I raise my head, forcing myself to pay attention to the words rather than his voice. He's talking about the poor test scores.  
  
No surprise there.  
  
Rarely does anyone get what he considers a good mark in his classes. I ignore the words and just le the sound of him wash over me. I must have closed my eyes, because suddenly his acidic voice is right in front of me, tone low and deceptively calm. My eyes snap open. "Is my class boring enough that you can fall asleep in it, Mr. Potter, or is it that you simply did so well on your test that you don't have to listen to the review of the material?" I'm surprised; he hadn't used that tone concerning me in several days. In fact he had ceased insulting me at all in the hallways when we passed one another. Granted he ignored any greeting I gave him and didn't even look at me, but I had thought it simply because of his teacher status that he wasn't overly friendly. I had expected similar treatment in his class, rather than the old routine of making me miserable. Apparently I'm mistaken, and speechless. "Are you going to answer me Mr. Potter, or sit and gape like an ill mannered fish all day?" The comment earned snickers from several people I don't get along with, namely Malfoy and his cronies, but I don't really care. I stare at him, not knowing what to say and finally just look away.  
  
I'm an idiot.  
  
Silently I seethe and fume at myself for being stupid enough to let myself be pulled into a hopeful possibility that had never been there in the first place. I don't bother to look up as The Bastard takes away more house points and moves on to bully Neville before continuing with his reviewing. I tune him out, and just glare at the back of his black robes.  
  
I can't believe I let him kiss me. He must have laughed his bony ass off after I left. More than likely he' told the slytherins and let them have a good laugh at the pathetic Golden Boy as well. Damn him. DAMN HIM TO HELL!  
  
He digs into me throughout the entire class, and I hate him more and more as it goes on. On some level of my consciousness a voice silently cheers him on, it was about time I woke up and discovered reality it said. I hated the voice too, and told it so. He goes around, passing back the tests. I don't even want to look at it or him. I'm tempted to rip up the sheet right in front of him, just to see what he'd do about it. I get mine back last of course, with plenty of scathing remarks to go with it. I glare at him in return. After years of having this man as a teacher, I've learned to just vent afterwards rather than in class at him. It has better results. He just sneers and goes on his way back to his desk. Some things just never fucking change.  
  
I reluctantly look down at my paper. A glutton for punishment I guess and gasp in shock. Which to my relief no one has noticed, caught up in their own poor grades. His red ink is all over the piece, answering every question I had written down, indicating fantasies he was curious about, and a few comment on my thoughts of him, every single one of them honest. I look up at him, he catches my eye only briefly before stalking over to Neville and verbally going at him again for some reason or another. I fold the paper and slip it into a pocket of my jeans.  
  
Some things never change. Some do.  
  
~FIN...? ~  
  
*** AUTHOR'S NOTE: I want to thank every one that bothered to read this. This is my very first attempt at a fic, and I can't believe I've actually finished it. I've done a few others, but not once have I managed to get to the end of them. Please leave a review!!! I want to know what you guys think of my first try. Don't be gentle with me just be honest. Hugs for you all, until next time! 


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